And here we are less than a week away from flying out of the U.S.A. to start a new adventure in a foreign land.
When we first started thinking and talking about the possibility of moving to Israel for two years for Tyler to do school, it always felt so far away and even almost very unlikely. But with less than a week away from flying out, I have decided that it is very much real.
While we were still living in Minnesota, I was working at a thrift store and we often had customers, who had come to America from other countries. It was sometimes a struggle to understand them, because there English was not always supper great or their accent was hard to understand.
But that foreigner who is hard to understand and speaks a different language is soon going to be me.
It will be me walking the streets or in the market place trying to buy food and communicate with the locals. And they will be the ones trying to understand what I am saying. And I will be the one who speaks a foreign tongue.
Her eyes scanned the old pictures from her families photo album, turning the page, heart yearning for days of old. She pondered, she dreamed of the days long gone by.
There was a picture of her sister and there a picture of her long past brother. She remembered the days of laughter and silly childhood play, giggles of mirth, creeks to splash in, forts and fortresses to build. Wishing and replaying every little thing, wanting it to be all back again.
Why couldn't we just put life on stand still she said? Why can't we push replay? Why can't life just stay the way it was?
She was a dreamer, a dreamer of the past, a dreamer of the days long gone.
The past had lustrous memories. The future seemed so grim. Family spread far and wide. One brother dead. People changing. Why? Why can't it be the same as it used to be she'd say?
Looking, looking, always looking with her head turned back. Always peering into the Past.
The Present came to her door and knocked. The Present was filled with vibrant colors of life and youth and health. But she was too busy starring back at her dead Past. And so the Present came and the Present went.
The Future came filled with hopes and dreams and skies looking bright. But she still stood there looking down with saddened eyes looking into the Past, but the Past was no more for it had past. And so the Future came and the Future went.
Years slipped by, the sun rose, and the sun set, but she sat on her porch with the photo album in her hands still grieving over the loss of her dear Past.
Driving away from what has been my city and home for the last six years.
Some years filled with tears and stress and some years filled with laughter and love. City life has not always been my friend. And the Minnesota snow and winter cold has rarely been my friend, if ever. But despite my distaste of the climate or harsh judgments of city life, Minneapolis will be dearly missed in my heart.
But more than that, it will be the friends I have made over the last 6 years that will be most dearly missed. I have found some of the sweetest friends in the community God has placed me in Minneapolis and it is the people God has surrounded me with there that has truly made Minneapolis a home to me.
We are driving forward, onward to the next adventure, a new city, new friends.
Goodbye sweet, Minneapolis, till next time!
I sit here and listen to the loud grinding noises of city life or an on going groaning from near by work. An airplane is heard flying nearer and nearer, then softer and softer grows the noise as it disappears out of sight.
The less harsh words of nature, are heard bringing sweet melodies to my ears through the chirping songs of the birds.
I feel the gentle breeze of the wind and hear the faint rustling and whispering of the leaves.
My eyes peer out the window and take in the vine climbing up the wall of the neighboring boarding house. Orange fragrant blooms rest with striking color against the old stucco wall. Blue skies for eternity.
My senses become alert, eager to take it all in, trying to let nothing go unmissed. Its easy for day to day to go by and so little is remembered from each moment. So little is truly delighted in and yet there is so much delight in this world. From the giggles and laughter of children to the gurgling of a creek.
My desire as a writer is for others to experience what I experience in the life around me and inside me, the things I see, things I smell, the things I feel deep in my heart, or the things I touch with my hands.
I write so that others can feel that they are right there with me though they may be worlds away. And not only may they be right there with me, but may my readers enjoy it and find delight in every little and marvelous wonder of this world. My desire is that the words I write would make life come alive and that you, my reader, may enjoy it too with all the senses God gave you.
Or may the words I write stir your own heart to feel and connect with the things I have felt deep inside. Whether I write of tears and sorrow or of joys uncontainable, may your own heart resonate with mine and may we sing with one voice and delight once again in our Savior.
I cannot write well unless I am experiencing well, and the only way for me to experience well is to be all there.
Its the farm house
Nestled in the valley
That holds sweet memories.
You get there from
A long meandering road,
Winding around the country side.
Driving, driving, driving,
Past fields and forest,
And falling apart shacks.
Around a bend here,
Around a bend there.
Up a hill and down again.
Its deep in the woods,
Away from the noise
Of city life bustle
And of hustle and hurry.
Nestled in a valley
Is the house and the home
Of the farmer.
There the house stands,
Strong and erect.
The red brick walls,
Telling stories of long ago
And stories that are new,
Of laughter and tears,
Of fellowship with friends,
Of love and of heart ache,
Of joy from the pain,
And pain amidst the joy,
Sweat and toil,
And lots of hard work.
The sun rises,
The sun sets.
The farmer wakes early.
He works in his fields,
He tends to his crops.
Its peaceful in the valley,
Its humble, its home.
This is the farm house
Nestled in the valley.
This is the country girl of the south sitting by her window enjoying brief moments of reflection on life in the city.
Sometimes I have felt the cage of this city and the barriers that have restrained my thoughts. The walls that man builds and the skies that are filled with with the towers of men's hands.
But then their are times when I have delighted in the freedom to walk the streets and find myself wander to a coffee shop or a near by historical bridge.
I have found myself staring into the depths of the past, placed brick by brick in the heart of a city, by lives that have lived only to die and be known no more.
I have found myself wondering at the architecture of a building and examining its design and my curiosity asks the many questions of why and how and when and who?
I have found myself lonely though surrounded by people.
I found myself staring at a sunset from God's marvelous hands. No city can block or outshine it in beauty and color. It is there for all who will see.
I have found myself hating the bustle and noise. But I have also found myself grow accustomed to the clamor as it slowly becomes home.
I have often wished for the quiet and peace of God's nature, of trees of the forest, and hills and mountains and meadows or even the gentle roaring of the ocean as it laps against the shore.
But I have grown to love city life too and see God's marvelous hand at work in the people. I have smiled at strangers knowing they are created in God's image. I have grieved over the heartaches and pain that exists in these souls.
I have laughed with the carefree and I have cried with the broken, the people of God's city.
I have been eager to leave, but I have longed to return. It's as if I have two homes.